


A Wish for Sunshine

by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)



Series: Sunshine [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, Feeeeeeeeeeeeelings, It’s so FLUFFY!, M/M, Massage, Schmoop, Shamelessly Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia
Summary: Bucky gives Clint a massage. That’s it; that’s the fic.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Sunshine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688101
Comments: 24
Kudos: 145





	A Wish for Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> If I had a tale that I could tell you  
> I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile  
> If I had a wish that I could wish for you  
> I'd make a wish for sunshine for all the while
> 
> — John Denver, Sunshine on my Shoulders

“Pleeeeeease?”

“No,” Natasha turns the page of the magazine she has resting on Clint’s (amazing) chest.

“But you’re so good at it.”

“Ask James.”

Clint turns his big puppy dog eyes on Bucky, who had just come into the communal room and had been arrested by a nearly naked Clint lying across Natasha’s lap, his ankles thrown over the arm of the couch, his head nearly reaching the other arm.

As easy as it is to forget how tiny Natasha is or how massive Clint is, like this it’s impossible to miss. Clint has one arm draped up behind Natasha’s back, his hand resting on her shoulder and his other trailing down to the floor where his hand is wrapped loosely around her ankle. 

They’ve either been swimming or sunbathing. She’s in a conservative black one piece with a semi sheer cover up, he’s in those ridiculous purple booty shorts that drive Bucky toward insanity every time he sees them and nothing else. 

Natasha likes the warmth of being out in the sun, but Clint practically lives for it. Her skin is still pale, not the ghostly white it gets in the winter, but she’s judicious with the sunblock, unlike Clint, who is miles and miles of golden skin, freckles dappling his shoulders and nose, his many, many scars standing in stark relief. 

Bucky swallows, “Ask James what?”

“For a massage?” 

“I— okay,” Bucky agrees, not sure if he's the luckiest man on earth or the most foolish.

Probably both, but he’s certainly not going to pass up a chance to touch Clint.

“Sorry, Tash, Bucky’s now my favorite.”

Bucky’s glad for his long hair, knowing the tips of his reddening ears are safely hidden.

“Go,” Natasha flicks Clint’s nose with a perfectly manicured fingertip and lifts up the magazine. 

Clint does this roll-twist-somersault thing off her lap, “My room or your’s, Bucko?”

“I’m— either? I don’t have any oils or anything.”

“S’fine, let's do mine then.”

Clint’s room is neater than Bucky’s expecting. It’s absurdly large, with full wall windows and an ensuite just like everyone’s rooms. Clint has a couple of targets framed and on the wall over his oversized bed, one with a smiley face punched out and another with an hourglass. 

The bed is made with military corners and there’s a desk up against the window with a fletching kit and scattered electronic parts. 

The door to the walk-in closet, bigger than some safehouses Bucky’s had, is open and that’s where Clint’s confined his mess. There are a couple of spare quivers, more arrows than Bucky can count and most notably clothes strewn everywhere; there’s even a pair of jeans hanging from the ceiling and Bucky’s not sure he wants to know how that happened. It’s particularly impressive considering the the fact that Bucky thought Clint only owned three shirts (including his tac vest).

Clint ducks into the bathroom and tosses Bucky a bottle of cherry-almond scented lotion, “Should I…?” He tucks a thumb into the waist band of his ‘swimsuit’, and he doesn’t look nervous but Bucky feels like it’s some kind of test. 

Bucky shrugs, honestly not caring, “Your call.”

Clint’s smile is brilliant and if it was a test, Bucky’s passed.

“Get on the bed, you goob.”

Clint, being Clint, leaps from where he’s standing to starfish in the middle of the bed. It’s big enough that when he’s in the center nothing hangs off the edges and he sighs, “Stark has spoiled me for any other mattress.”

Bucky chuckles, “Tell me about it.”

He isn’t sure if everyone has mattresses this size, but Steve and Bucky do; they’re big enough for the two of them can stretch out side by side with room left over, something they found out in the early days, when Bucky was still shaking off the Winter Soldier, and later, when Steve knew he could reach out to Bucky for comfort again. 

Bucky takes off his boots and knee walks across the bed to get next to Clint before pumping some of the lotion into his right hand. He grimaces as he rubs his hands together, realizing it’s going to take forever to clean up the left.

Worth it. 

He heats up the left until it’s the same temperature as the right and the lotion warms up quickly. He starts at Clint’s shoulders and Clint moans a soft, “Oh my God. Best idea ever.”

Bucky takes his time, working his way down Clint’s back, enjoying the play of his muscles under Bucky’s fingertips, paying close attention to the knots as they melt away and rubbing extra lotion into the particularly tight scars. 

“Oh, _Bucky,_ ” Clint sighs in a way that should be illegal when an especially stubborn knot releases. People think that archery mostly works your arms, but Bucky knows that it’s really your back muscles that get the work out and he takes a good thirty minutes just to massage Clint’s back before continuing lower. 

He doesn’t avoid Clint’s ass but he also doesn’t spend any excessive amount of time on it, massaging those muscles like any other as he makes his way down Clint’s legs and wishes he were a poet so he could truly express his appreciation for Clint’s thighs.

He’s quicker with Clint’s feet, knowing he’ll return to them once he’s ready for Clint’s other side; for now he makes his way back up to the small of Clint’s back so that he can press his thumbs in at the base of his spine and then using as much pressure as he can without bruising as he draws them all the way up to Clint’s neck.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Clint whispers and then goes tense, not completely ruining all of Bucky’s work, but enough that Bucky digs his fingers right up under the base of his skull and whispers, “Shhh, relax.”

Bucky smiles as for once in his life Clint listens to an order without snarking back, his body going boneless again as he decides to trust Bucky. 

Bucky runs his fingers through Clint’s hair and when that gets him another moan he uses more pressure to massage his head, until his fingers come around to Clint’s ears. He tugs on Clint’s earlobe, “Keeping these in?”

Clint’s head tilts to the side for a second and then says, “Nah,” and Bucky expects him to take the BTE’s off himself but he asks, “You do it?”

Bucky’s breath catches at the intimacy of it and he’s gentle like he hasn’t been so far, carefully removing Clint’s hearing aids and stretching out to set them on the nightstand, leaving the fingertips of his metal hand on Clint’s shoulder, not wanting to break the connection of touch. 

He comes back and rubs Clint’s ears, getting a little more lotion and working it into the scar tissue just behind his jaw.

“Ohhh,” Clint moans louder this time, now that he can’t hear himself it’s harder for him to regulate his volume, and Bucky realizes he’s been holding back. 

They can’t have that now, can they?

He finishes with Clint’s temples and urges him to roll over with a couple fingers under Clint’s shoulders.

Bucky’s never meet anyone as simultaneously clumsy and graceful as Clint Barton, but right now he's relaxed and dreamy and isn’t able to get in his own way so it’s all grace. He smiles at Bucky, his sunshine smile as Bucky likes to call it, and then his lashes, dark brown in contrast to his sun kissed hair, flutter shut.

Bucky goes back to massaging Clint’s temples, and moves on to his forehead, then his cheekbones, then the bridge of his nose, his fingers tracing over over the freckles there before rubbing up between his eyes.

He massages Clint’s jaw, relishing the way the patchy stubble pricks against his fingers, and he wonders if he might be able to trust Bucky enough to let him shave him one of these days. Steve found an antique straight razor like the one Bucky had during the war and he loves the ritual of it and wants to share that with Clint.

He’s gentle again with Clint’s throat and then firm as he returns to Clint’s shoulders before moving to his arms, wrapping his hands around Clint’s bicep and keeping back a moan himself as it takes both hands; not wanting to be selfish, he continues on to Clint’s forearm where there’s still a little more tension than Bucky would like.

He’s careful with Clint’s wrist and hand, not too soft but not too hard either as he presses his thumbs into Clint’s palm and then tugs on each finger individually.

“Oh, oh, ohhhh,” Clint moans and then bites his lip, his toes curling and Bucky thanks every god he’s ever heard of that he gets to repeat this with Clint’s other arm.

He gets an even better response with Clint’s draw arm as Clint chants, “Bucky. Bucky, _Bucky_ ,” the last one breathless with awe. Bucky feels a tinge of disappointment as he rests Clint’s hand down back in the mattress, part of him wanting to stay there forever, but it’s quickly submerged under the pleasure of tracing Clint’s collarbones and then rubbing his pecs. His fingers glance over Clint’s nipples, he doesn’t avoid them but he also doesn’t pay them any special attention before moving on to his abs. 

Christ, he’s like a damned cartoon character or one of those beefcake pin-ups Bucky may or may not have been looking at online. 

Clint’s shorts expose his hip bones and and Bucky wraps his fingers around Clint’s waist, his fingers pressing into Clint’s lower back as he strokes his thumbs over Clint’s hips.

He puts as much effort into the tops of Clint’s thighs as he had the back and his calves, and then treats his feet to the same treatment he had Clint’s hands, once again getting long drawn out moans and even a couple whimpers, and what sounds like the start of Bucky’s name which Clint seems to have forgotten. 

Bucky sits up and watches Clint for a bit until he slowly opens his eyes. He smiles a lazy, sunshiny smile and stretches his full body like a cat and says drowsily, “Hand me my ears?”

Bucky does so and once he’s done fitting them in, Bucky helps him sit up which Clint converts into a hug, one Bucky gladly returns. 

Clint pulls back and he just looks so happy Bucky asks without thinking, “Can I kiss you?”

Something dark flickers in Clint’s eyes, but the corner of his lip quirks up and he says, “Yeah,” as he lowers his lips towards Bucky’s.

Bucky cups his jaw and tilts Clint’s head down just a bit more so that he can press a chaste kiss to Clint’s forehead and Clint says, “Oh,” like the breath has been punched out of him and he melts into Bucky’s arms. 

“Definitely my favorite,” Clint sighs. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I’ve caught all the typos, but if not please let me know in the comments.
> 
> I’m on Tumblr at [Paraprosdokia ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/paraprosdokia)
> 
> I’m really enjoying this series. Let me know if there is anything in particular you want to see.


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